


Not No Good, but Definitely Something Stupid

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nebulous Canon Timeline, Season/Series 01 Spoilers, alcohol consumption, some mild language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: After only a minute or so, Dutch asked, “Have you ever just wanted to murder Johnny and stash him somewhere?”





	Not No Good, but Definitely Something Stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirty_diana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/gifts).



> For Diana, on the occasion of a lousy afternoon. ♥ you, dear. I hope your day gets better!
> 
> (And seriously, this was meant to be shippy, it just decided halfway through that it wasn't.)

When he walked in, Dutch was sitting on the couch, drinking, and staring at the wall like it had done her wrong. D’avin poured himself a finger or two out of her bottle before sitting next to her and slouching into the couch. He sipped the drink slowly while he waited for her to tell him what was bothering her. It was ritual enough that he knew the drill and could keep to it.

Sometimes, she never spoke at all. That wasn’t a hardship, either.

After only a minute or so, Dutch asked, “Have you ever just wanted to murder Johnny and stash him somewhere?”

D’avin did his best to keep from smiling. “I did stab him once,” he said.

Dutch gave him an exasperated look, but the corner of her mouth twitch up. “Not what I meant.”

“He’s my little brother,” D’avin said. He shrugged and smiled at her. “Of course I have.”

“How do you keep from--” Dutch took another drink and waved her free hand up and down, like the heathen wall was her mental representation of Johnny. “--you know, _doing_ it?”

D’avin thought he was doing a pretty good job not smiling; his jaw hurt and everything. That was effort. “Well, sometimes I’d chuck him out the front door,” he said. “But then he’s Johnny, and he inevitably does something _Johnny_ -like and I can’t stay mad.” D’avin made a shrugging motion and deliberately bumped Dutch. “I might be genetically programmed that way, though.”

Dutch laughed shortly. “He does do _Johnny_ things, doesn’t he?” she asked.

“He does,” D’avin agreed.

“Well, I still want to kill him,” Dutch said, gesturing again. “Even though I probably won’t tomorrow.”

D’avin nodded slowly. “That’s fair.” He paused. “Will you see him again before tomorrow?”

“No,” Dutch answered shortly. “Johnny’s taken his stupid Johnny ass off to Leith for something stupid and Johnny-like.”

D’avin had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. Apparently, the bottle had been much, much fuller very recently. He swiped in a move that made it look like he was topping off his own drink. D’avin doubted he’d fooled Dutch even a little, but it was the sentiment that counted. “Do we know what sort of stupid he’s doing?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dutch answered. She continued to scowl at the wall for a moment before she turned to scowl at D’avin. “But I’m not supposed to tell you.”

A few Johnny-related alarm bells sounded in D’avin’s head, but he pushed them aside for the much more immediate problem of a drunk Dutch. “That definitely does sound stupid,” D’avin agreed.

Dutch narrowed her eyes at him. “You took my booze,” she said.

“I did,” D’avin said. He gave Dutch what he thought was his most charming smile.

“Ass,” Dutch said. She gestured with her mostly-empty glass, pointing a finger at D’avin’s face. “That wasn’t very ladylike.”

D’avin kept the smile on his face, this time so that the crinkling of his eyes had probable cause besides laughter. “No,” D’avin said. “Sorry.”

“I will forgive you,” Dutch said. She pointed at his face again, this time with her free hand. “On one condition.”

“Sure,” D’avin said. If it was stupid and unrealistic and he didn’t do it, at least there were even odds that she wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“If Johnny isn’t back by ship’s midnight, call him and tell him I’m going to kill him.” Dutch turned to set her glass down on the table next to the couch. “I’m going to bed.” She stood up unsteady, but waved off D’avin’s help in favor of levering herself up with the couch as support. Once she was on her feet, she said, “Goodnight,” and wandered down the hall.

D’avin figured he’d give it five minutes before he went to make sure she’d made it to her own bed. His and Johnny’s were closer and Dutch had a tendency to shrug off which bed she actually wound up in when she was drunk.

In the meantime, he was going to figure out what Johnny was actually up to, since “no good” hadn’t been a good enough answer since they were kids and their dad had figured out they weren’t actually answering his question. “Something stupid” had gotten them another few years of ambiguity.

“Lucy?” D’avin asked.

“Yes?” Lucy replied. She sounded alert in a way only AIs were capable of.

“Where is Johnny?”

“Johnny has requested that I do not give you that information,” Lucy answered.

D’avin scowled and muttered, “Favoritism.” 

Lucy didn’t respond. Instead, a crash sounded from down the hall.

“Shit,” D’avin said. He pointed at the ceiling. “We’re not done, Lucy.” He stood up and made for where Dutch had likely fallen over.

Lucy answered, “Of course we’re not.”


End file.
